


Tater is Coming to Town

by bookwyrmling



Series: Check Please! 12 Days of Christmas 2016 [4]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Check Please 12 Days of Christmas, Day 4: Santa Clause, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Santa Clause is Coming to Town AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 01:46:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9050272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookwyrmling/pseuds/bookwyrmling
Summary: A retelling of a scene from the classic Christmas claymation movie, Santa Clause is Coming to Town.  Tater befriends the evil Winter Warlock, melting his heart and form back into that of a human and finding a friend and ally underneath the ice, as well.





	

There is an evil warlock who calls the Mountain of the Whispering Winds home and he does not allow any to pass through or over. There are a brave few who have tried its treacherous trails, but even fewer who have made it back to civilization. Only one has ever gathered the courage to try again, but needs must when your adoptive family makes too many toys and the only children in the area lay on the mountain’s other side.

Tater snuck onto the mountain carefully. Last time, he had been chased out by a booming voice and nearly met his end in a blizzard, only to find, when he had made it back to the land of Providence in the Rainbow River Valley, his family had already begun yet another mountain of toys. Between seeing the joy on his family’s faces upon knowing their toys were being played with and seeing the joy on the faces of the children of Somberville and hearing the tales of their play from the pretty schoolteacher, Bitty, he could not just stop.

So, once there were enough toys for him to bag up, Tater slipped long, gangly limbs into his family’s special outfit—all red wool with white fur trim as the Kringles had always worn—and took once more to the mountain trails. It was nearing the midway point that he saw the sign—handcrafted and new by the lack of wear or moss on it—and Tater drew close to it as he read it.

YOU ARE TRESPASSING  
ON THE LAND OF  
THE WINTER WARLOCK

Well, Tater had been doing as much since he first started bringing toys to Somberville, so what was once more? Only, as he was about to turn around, the branches of the tree beside him came to life, reached out and wrapped around him, tight enough to keep him from moving as the Winter Warlock, himself, came out from the trees.

He was certainly a sight to behold, all sharp edges with the white bite of frost clinging to his skin. His eyes shone a piercing blue that would likely strike any normal person paralyzed with fear and even Tater, trapped as he was, squirmed in his increased attempts to get away.

“Kris Kringle, you’ve disturbed me for the very last time! Now I have you and you’ll never get away!” the warlock cried out and Tater would have panicked at that but he had not taken this route again without some inkling of a plan in place, so as the terrifying glare continued its attempt to cow him, Tater took the opportunity to interrupt.

“Maybe you are not letting me go and maybe you are killing me,” he admitted with a nod, “But maybe first you are telling tree friends to letting me go? I’m have something for you.”

The warlock silenced at that, the earlier glee at routing his quarry turning into distrust and laser focus as he leaned in to scrutinize his captive’s face. “I won’t fall for any tricks,” he spoke clearly and Tater’s eyes widened.

“Is no trick!” he exclaimed, wiggling just enough to slip his arms out and shake them with his head, “Is toy brought special for you!”

That brought pause to the warlock’s anger, his own eyes opening wide in not only surprise, but pain and loneliness. “You…” he spoke in broken disbelief, “You wish to give me a present? A toy?”

“Yes!” Tater cried with a wide smile, his arms shifting where they were held in place by the tree’s branches, “I’m bringing it just for you!”

“But...nobody ever brings me presents.”

Tater frowned at that before deciding, “Is new! I have in my bag!” He raised an eyebrow and studied the warlock carefully before testing, “...If trees are just letting me go?”

The warlock blinked. “Oh, uh, yeah,” he stumbled through his surprised reply, “I guess just don’t go running? I mean, they’re not mean.” He smirked and laughed at himself before adding, “Their bark is worse than their bite.”

And, with no more than a few words, the tree holding Tater tight released him into the snow, where he landed with a poof in the fresh powder.

“Once again, no tricks,” the warlock warned as he eyed the now laughing man warily.

“Hahaha! Bark is worse than bite! I understand. Is very funny!” Tater chortled, “And no, no. No tricks. Just toy!” And, with that, Tater dug into his bag before pulling out a carefully crafted wooden item and handing it carefully over to the warlock.

“A...hockey stick?” the warlock asked in reverence as he ran his hands over the lacquer of the shaft before studying the curve of its face with a keen eye. “I’ve always wanted one,” he continued, “I ran away from Sombertown because Chuckmeister, the sport analyst, said I could do no better than playing as a game...and games weren’t allowed. They weren’t serious enough. I wanted to prove myself by playing elsewhere, but I never made it off this mountain, I-”

The warlock cut off as the ice crystals on his face began to melt and drip away, the whiteness of his skin fading as his cheeks flushed color.

“What is happen?” Tater asked in shock as he studied the new face of the warlock—nay, man—before him.

“My icy heart…” the warlock said in surprise, bringing a hand up to his chest as the other touched carefully at his face, “...it melted.”

Tater watched with wide eyes before grinning. “Look, Mister Warlock—” he began, only for the warlock to shake his head.

“You can call me Jack,” he corrected, “My name before I became the winter warlock was Jack Zimmermann.”

Tater’s grin grew into a full smile, teeth and all—his eyes crinkling in the corners. “Ah! I call you Zimmboni, then!”

“Zimmboni?” The warlock blinked and frowned, his eyebrows knitting together, though he did not seem to be planning on voicing any direct issue with it.

“Is bad?” Tater asked with concern, all the same.

The warlock huffed, his forehead furrowing deeper before smoothing out completely as he shook his head. “No, actually,” he said with awed realization, “Suddenly, it doesn’t seem so bad.”

“That is good, then!” Tater decided as he walked over to the warlock and threw his arm casually over the man’s shoulder, “You come home with me. Play with family. When family is not making toys, is playing hockey.”

The corner of Jack’s lips wavered up and some crinkles around his own eyes appeared before it all collapsed into an emotionless mask. “That sounds pretty great, but...but what if I turn back?” he asked, his shoulders tightening as he slipped out from under the arm Tater through over his shoulder, “I’m pretty despicable. Even before I became the winter warlock, I was called a robot and I know I became even more cruel afterwards. It’s not easy to really change.”

Tater blinked and asked, “Is not easy?” He hummed in thought before shaking his head, “Is very easy. Just like taking steps. One foot in front of the other. Like this, yes?” And Tater took a step forward and then another.

Jack pursed his lips but watched with careful, doleful eyes before asking, “Do you mind if I follow your steps first?”

“Yes!” Tater beamed, “Zimmboni come with me! First I am delivering toys to children in Somberville. I can show you pretty teacher, too! He is best baker. Better than my family. I bring fruits and he bakes small pies while I am delivering toys. Then we go home and play hockey!”

For the first time since they had met, Tater saw Jack smile as what was once a perpetually frozen grimace warmed with each beat of his melted heart.

“That sounds nice.”


End file.
